


Daughter of Israel

by ciannwn



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: 12th Century, Gen, Humour, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-17
Updated: 2011-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciannwn/pseuds/ciannwn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An extract from Grendel's memoirs.  After spending the summer of 1198 as a sergeant of the watch at Sir William de Butlin's holiday camp at Pwllheli, Grendel decides it's time to try and make a proper career for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daughter of Israel

**Author's Note:**

> Unreliable and misogynistic narrator ahead. Also features a Spanish nobleman who speaks English with the 'Castilian Lisp' pronunciation.

I spent the summer of 1198 as a sergeant of the watch at Sir William de Butlin's holiday camp at Pwllheli - it wasn't what I'd intended as I'd originally applied to be a Red Surcoat but I thoroughly enjoyed myself all the same. The only trouble with this kind of job, though, is that you're out of work again at the end of the season so I thought it was time to look for something permanent and try and make a proper career for myself.

The day I left de Butlin's was destined to be a turning point in my life but it didn't get off to a particularly good start. I had a dreadful hangover from the staff's farewell party the night before and a mile down the road I realised I'd forgotten my helmet and had to go back for it. Not that it was worth much as it was very old and battered, but I didn't fancy travelling without it in case I was attacked. Besides, being the pot shaped variety, it was also useful for cooking in, so I didn't want to lose it.

Things didn't look very promising at the local Job Centre although I dutifully studied all the parchments on display. There were plenty of vacancies for goat-herds, public latrine attendants and things like that but I wanted something better. I also wanted to curl up and die in a corner by then too, as reading the adverts by torchlight had made my headache worse, but I decided I might as well go on their records in case anything worthwhile turned up later on. I therefore joined the queue for a clerk and whiled away the next hour by trying not to be sick.

Luckily I felt a bit better when my turn came as the clerk concerned didn't seem the type who'd be sympathetic if I was violently ill in his vicinity. He started by asking me my name as far back as I could go and made the usual response of 'Are you trying to be funny?' when I told him it was Grendel ap Agammemon ap Caligula ap Rameses. I explained that my family went in for exotically foreign names and by the time anyone realised I'd been called after a monster it was too late to change it, but I don't think he was entirely convinced.

The next thing he wanted to know was what qualifications I had. I was on safer ground here as I was able to report that I was a warrior proficient in the use of the sword, sling and spear and that I could also ride well though I didn't have a horse of my own at the moment. Finally he asked if I could speak any English and I told him I was fluent in the language because I'd lived in the Archenfield district of Herefordshire until I was thirteen when we moved to my father's native village in Gwynedd.

He hmmed and hawed a bit then opened a chest and produced a tatty piece of parchment, explaining that there wasn't much in for warriors at this time of year, so perhaps I should consider this. 'This' turned out to be a position with Lord Owen of Clun and Oswestry as Captain of his retainers, thus the need for applicants to be bilingual because his lands bordered on Shropshire. I can't say I was immediately attracted to this idea though, as I suspected Lord Owen would think me too young and inexperienced for such a responsible post and it would be a long journey for nothing. Then I remembered one of my Auntie Cleopatra's favourite maxims - never overlook an opportunity in case it turns out to be a good one - and agreed to go along for an interview.

The clerk told me to head for Montgomery as Clun Castle was a few miles south-east from there across Offa's Dyke and I couldn't resist saying that Mrs. Offa must have been a very strange lady. Then I kicked him as one does when making a joke - or as I do anyway. Most people maintain that it's an infuriating habit and the clerk obviously agreed as he threatened to have me arrested if I didn't get out immediately.

It was an average sort of journey. A couple of bridges were down so I had to swim the rivers, it always rained on the nights I couldn't find shelter and I was attacked by robbers who thought I was easy game because I was alone. They soon regretted their mistake but still, it caused me a lot of inconvenience even though they didn't take anything - I was making rabbit stew at the time and there was no chance to clean my helmet before putting it on so I had to wash gravy out of my hair and catch another rabbit before I could continue on my way.

I reached Clun Castle a week after setting out and wished I hadn't bothered when I first caught sight of it. The place had a seedy, run down appearance with parts of the walls badly in need of repair but I thought I might as well go ahead with the interview seeing as I'd already come this far. I had to hammer on the door with my sword-hilt for ages before the gatekeeper appeared and then I was kept waiting for another half hour, so I was really fed up when he finally let me in and said Lord Owen would see me.

I felt a bit better though when I was conducted through the outer bailey by a grubby, half-grown boy. It was full of shacks, lean-tos, dogs, chickens and all the usual kinds of things you usually find in castles, so at least Clun was a thriving community even if it did look a ruin from the outside. There were also a few skulls on sticks dotted around which indicated the extent to which Lord Owen followed old Celtic customs.

The keep reflected this homely atmosphere, being comfortably filthy and cluttered and there were yet more skulls on display in odd corners, I had the eerie feeling that one of them was staring at me from the shadows and was somewhat alarmed when it floated away making horrible cackling noises as I naturally thought the place was haunted. When the boy said it was Gulnar, Lord Owen's sorcerer and part time Druid, I was far from reassured as I'd never heard of anyone employing a disembodied head before.

The mystery was solved when I reached the hall which was far better lit than the outer passages - Gulnar was wearing a dark robe of animal skins which explained why I hadn't seen the rest of him in the gloom. Not that I was exactly reassured even then as he was a repulsive bald creature with manic eyes and a leering smile - and still is, by the way, because the years have done nothing to improve him.

Lord Owen seemed quite wholesome by comparison. He had long, greasy hair, the kind of beard that looked as if he hadn't shaved for a week and an air of amiable violence, all of which combined to give the impression he was a very scruffy hellraiser. He promised to be great fun to work for so I decided I wanted the job after all and would do my best to get it.

Gulnar sidled across the hall until he was positioned somewhere behind me and I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my neck. Then the interrogation began.

Name? I thought it best to explain my family's eccentric approach first and Lord Owen found it very funny. So did Gulnar, judging by the cackles.

Age? I said I was nearly twenty-one which sounded marginally better than twenty. He looked a bit dubious as I'd expected and there was a scornful "Hah'." from the back.

Qualifications? He appeared satisfied with these and as there were no strange noises from Gulnar I assumed that he was too.

Hobbies? I told him girls and drinking but didn't mention writing long, chatty letters to relatives and friends in case he didn't think it a manly occupation. There was a menacing "Hhhaaahh!" from Gulnar upon which Lord Owen glared at me.

"And?" He demanded, looking as if he were prepared to wring the truth out of me by torture if necessary. I confessed to the letter writing and there was another scornful, "Hah'." which was the vocal equivalent of Lord Owen's expression.

Was I fussy about things like baths? I could see my prospective employer wasn't but I didn't dare lie this time. I said I liked to have three or four a year even if I wasn't particularly dirty and got the same response as to the letter writing.

Was I a devout Christian? Luckily I was able to say only when there was something to be gained by it as I had a distinct impression that an affirmative would have led to martyrdom on the spot.

Could I speak English? I told him I knew it almost as well as Welsh and he looked mildly impressed. There was also a satisfied "Aah!" from Gulnar but I didn't think the latter's comment had anything to do with me in this instance as noises from his quarter had suggested he'd been scratching for fleas.

Did I have any experience in training gladiators? I said no, but added I was good at breaking in horses so must have some teaching ability. Lord Owen sighed and muttered something about it being the usual story before directing a questioning look at a point beyond where I was standing.

Gulnar proceeded to prowl around me in a curious, lopsided manner, his eyes rolled up into their sockets and tongue writhing over his chin. It was very disconcerting and just to make things worse he positively reeked of garlic. Finally he stopped his endless circling, peered into my face with a grin reminiscent of a stoat about to pounce on a rabbit and then nodded at Lord Owen.

I gathered I was now on the shortlist as I was told that wages were seven shillings per month with bed and board thrown in but I refrained from asking the bawd's name as it was not the time to be flippant. Lord Owen would also supply whatever I needed, such as a horse, but if I wanted anything fancy I would have to buy it myself. The terms sounded reasonable enough and I said so.

I wondered when I would hear if I'd got the job but it turned out there was another part to the interview in the morning. Not that I minded the delay as I was very tired and hungry by then and welcomed the idea of supper and a place to bed down for the night. I was hardly treated as an honoured guest, though, as I had to share a leanto outside with another applicant - a formidable party who came from Oswestry.

It was very misleading referring to the final selection as an interview because it was a combat to the death in the castle's arena. I thought I'd had it as my opponent was just that bit faster - which was hardly surprising considering my exhausting journey - but I was saved by the floor being covered with mouldering straw. We'd kicked up quite a lot of dust between us and when he suddenly sneezed I took good advantage of the opportunity presented. Lord Owen didn't seem entirely happy at the outcome but there was no disputing that I was the victor so he made me his Captain on a six month trial basis and said I could keep the loser's skull as a trophy. I did, and after lining it with a scrap of leather found it a useful receptacle for small items such as brooches and hair ribbons which otherwise tended to get lost under the rushes.

\----------

The following April I was told that I could keep my position but I think Lord Owen's decision had less to do with my qualities of leadership - good as they are - then my proving a better than average trainer for his champions. He was winning a fortune at his weekly blood games and said I was worth my wages, even if I was a bit of a sissy with my letter writing and incessant bathing. I thought this a little unfair as I'd only had two baths while I'd been there - and one of those was because I'd tripped over in the bailey and landed in a pile of horse dung - but I knew better than to answer him back by then so didn't argue.

Now that my future was secured I decided I could afford to be extravagant and spend what money I'd saved from my season at de Butlin's. Lord Owen had indeed provided everything I needed and I had no complaints about the horse, which was a fine animal, but some of my equipment was more than a little shabby. The so-called new helmet was nearly as dented as my own, the stuffing was coming out of my saddle and I was really ashamed of my wristguards - one was badly scuffed and the other had been got at by a dog and was covered in teeth marks. This was hardly in keeping with my rank as Captain, as I looked more like a junior retainer who'd been given everyone else's cast-offs, so I resolved to go into town that afternoon and remedy the situation.

I was just about to leave when I had a message that Gulnar wanted to see me so I made my way to the dank, rat infested corner of the basement where he had his laboratory and living quarters. I found him crooning to himself in some eldritch tongue as he scribbled on a piece of parchment, pausing every so often to dip his pen into a puddle of fresh chicken blood - I knew it was chicken blood because the bird concerned was lying nearby with its throat cut. It was very creepy down there and I half expected a demon to materialise at any minute, so I was very relieved when he finished writing and handed me a shopping list. Luckily though, it was only for standard items like newts' eyes and bats' wings which were readily available at 'de Belleme's Cash and Carry' in the High Street, as it meant I didn't have to waste my free time waiting for things to be made up.

It turned out to be one of those annoying afternoons where nothing went right. De Belleme's was out of newts' eyes and the manager asked me if toads' eyes would do instead but as I hadn't the faintest idea I thought I'd better leave it. I then went to the armourer's where I was informed that they had a backlog of orders and it would be a month before they could get round to making my helmet. I asked if they had any decent second hand ones but all they could find in my size was a Norman acorn with nasal guard which looked as if it had been knocking around the storeroom for years.

When I said that none of Lord Owen's retainers wore those the assistant tried to talk me into starting a new fashion so I told him what he could do with it and walked out.

My next stop was the leather worker's where I was met with a very cool reception when I insisted that I wanted a pair of plain, ordinary wristguards, not silver studded ones with matching sword belt. It wasn't that I disliked the sound of them, but the set cost over a year's wages and besides, Lord Owen went in for the studded look and I didn't think he'd appreciate my copying him. In the end I was told to come back next week and see if their apprentice had found time to deal with my order and I could only get a firm completion date by threatening that if he hadn't it would be the last order he would ever deal with.

Finally, I called in at the saddler's but they had nothing in my price range unless I forgot about the helmet and wristguards which I had no intention of doing. I, therefore, decided to borrow some money and was directed to Abraham of Much Wenlock's house on the other side of town.

I was shown into his office where he was gloomily studying his accounts while his daughter, Esther, lounged on a pile of cushions and steadily ate her way through a dishful of exotically Eastern sweetmeats. I looked at her and she looked at me the way people do when they come across a new member of the opposite sex and it was love at first sight - on her part that is, as I've never fancied girls who are six foot tall and built like a keep to match. All the time I was there she kept gazing at me while fluttering her eyelashes and flashing her ankles at every opportunity but her father pretended not to notice her behaviour, although I could see he was terribly embarrassed by these seduction attempts going on in the corner. I got the impression he was terrified of her but then, I couldn't really blame him as she terrified me too and I was a warrior, not a doddering old man.

After some discussion he said he was more than willing to give me a loan but happened to be broke at the moment as he was waiting for clients to pay off their debts. We then arranged for him to send a message when he had the sum I needed and the interview ended with him borrowing fourpence off me.

Four days later I received a note asking me to meet him at Clunton. This puzzled me a bit as it's only a village but I thought he was probably passing through on his way to somewhere else and didn't want the bother of going back home just for the sake of lending me a couple of pounds. It didn't exactly make me feel like a valued customer but as I needed the money and there was no other means of getting it there didn't seem much choice - after all, if he was off on a journey he could be away for months.

1 was just leaving the keep when Gulnar came skulking out of the shadows and asked if I'd mind delivering a few things to Old Mother Gethen seeing as I'd be passing her hut on the way. I did, as it so happened, because it wasn't my job to run all these errands for him but as he'd already tied a leather bag to my swordbelt I thought it best not to refuse. He then had a fit of demonic laughter and said he might see me again on Thursday but when I informed him that I had no intention of being gone that long he only laughed again and scuttled off downstairs to his den. It was all very mysterious, but as I suspected he was a bit mental I didn't think too much about it.

It was a lovely spring day and I was enjoying my ride through the forest when someone dropped out of a tree and dragged me from my horse. I hit the ground with a painful thud, losing my helmet in the process, but I was too busy trying to fight my attacker to care about minor details like that. We were rolling around with me trying to get at my dagger and him doing his best to stop me when everything suddenly went black and the next thing I knew I had a blinding headache and a strong inclination to throw up. Neither condition was helped by being jolted about in a wagon while Esther loomed over me armed with an expression of tender concern and a wet cloth so I closed my eyes and let her get on with her nursing as there was nothing else I could do with my wrists and ankles tied.

We stopped at a tiny, neglected looking cottage in a clearing and I noticed a faded 'For Sale' sign as I was carried up the garden path by two of Esther's companions. There was little hope of any viewers coming along to raise the alarm, though, as few people want to live miles from anywhere, especially in such a turbulent area as the Welsh Marches, so I had to rely on my own resources if I were to escape.

I wasn't too badly off as it so happened. I was untied and shut in an upstairs room minus my sword and dagger, but as I always follow my Auntie Cleopatra's advice and never show everything I've got I had a second knife concealed under my tunic. Admittedly it wasn't much when I was up against Esther and four thugs who made her seem petite in comparison, but there are other uses for knives besides killing people as an investigation of my gloomy prison soon revealed. The planks boarding up the window were falling apart through rot so I didn't think I'd have much trouble making an exit in both the literal and figurative senses. There was no point in trying to sneak off in broad daylight though, so I sat down amidst the cobwebs to wait for nightfall and a full recovery from having been knocked unconscious.

I was watching the spiders and thinking it was just as well Griffith - my second in command - wasn't there because he's terrified of them, when the door opened and in clumped Esther, her head brushing the ceiling. From my vantage point on the floor she towered over me like Snowdon, so I decided against taking her hostage much as I was tempted to go for the direct approach; trying to hold my knife at her throat while manoeuvring us through the narrow doorway and down a flight of stairs little more than a vertical ladder was something to be attempted as a last resort. After all, that knife was my main advantage so it would be stupid to let them know I'd got it now by choosing a course of action where the odds were heavily stacked against my succeeding. If I didn't, they'd only take it off me and I might never get through the window afterwards without it. I, therefore, stared at her in what I hoped was a disapproving manner and waited for her to make the first move.

She offered me the mug of ale she'd brought with her but I was highly suspicious of it just in case it was drugged and suggested she proved it was harmless by tasting it first. I was relieved when she obliged as there was nothing else to drink and I was very thirsty by then, but her apology for hospitality didn't make me feel any more kindly disposed toward her. We then had the following conversation:

ME: What the Hell do you think you're playing at? Don't you know kidnapping's a criminal offence?

HER: (Fluttering her eyelashes) Yes, but it was worth the risk. I couldn't leave without you.

ME: (Baffled) What do you mean, leave? Your father's supposed to be lending me some money.

HER: Oh, he's not going. I'm just tired of living in a boring old place like Clun, that's all.

ME: (sarcastically) So you thought you'd turn outlaw for a bit of excitement?

HER: (Laughing in what I presume she thought was a coquettish way) What? And live in a boring old forest instead? No, we're off to London.

ME: (Incredulously) _We're_ off to London?

HER: (Exercising her eyelashes again) I said I couldn't leave without you. I fancied you something rotten when you came to see my father and you can't pretend you didn't notice.

ME: (Feeling a bit sorry for her because she was very young as well as very unattractive) Well I saw you waving your ankles around if that's what you mean. But fancying someone doesn't make kidnapping any less serious. (Hoping to talk some sense into her) Look, even if you don't get caught you'll never be able to come home again if London doesn't turn out to be as wonderful as you expect. And you won't have your own people to turn to either as they'll hardly approve of your taking an interest in a Christian.

HER: (Sitting down beside me with a floor-shaking thud) I'm sure they won't mind once we're married.

ME: (Quickly getting to my feet again and losing my temper at the same time) Married? You must be joking? I'd rather become a monk than marry you!

HER: (Heaving herself up again) You're hysterical but it's only to be expected after the ordeal you've been through.

ME: (What I said is unrepeatable as it was very insulting)

HER: (Not put off in the slightest) I can see you need a women to match your spirit.

Then she pounced on me and started to get passionate so I kicked her as hard as I could before my ribs gave way beneath her embrace. She couldn't fail to get the message this time and, losing her temper, she threatened that I would soon change my mind after several days without food and hopped out of the room clutching her ankle.

I wasn't too bothered at the thought of being starved into submission as I didn't intend staying there too long, but it was the final straw as far as my already foul mood was concerned. The ale mug being readily to hand I hurled it at the door in fury but only ended up with shards of pottery for my pains as it didn't make me feel any better. It didn't make my head feel any better either as it had started aching again so I forced myself to calm down and sort out some old sacks from the rubbish pile in the corner - they weren't much to pad the floorboards with but as I'd known worse in the way of beds I soon fell asleep once I'd convinced myself that rest would do me more good than fretting over Esther's irresponsible stupidity.

Sometime after dark I groped my way over to the window and attacked the barrier with my knife, pausing every now and then to make sure nobody was stirring downstairs. When I'd cleared the opening I climbed through and hung from the windowsill trying to summon up the courage to let go - it wasn't too far down from what I'd seen through the gaps between the planks that afternoon, but I hadn't a clue what was directly beneath me and it could have been a hole into the cellars for all I knew. In the end I fortified myself with the thought of my admirer and dropped to the ground - or to be more precise, into a patch of rather tall nettles.. It was hopeless trying to find dock leaves in the dark, though, so I gritted my teeth and followed a sound which indicated there were horses nearby.

Luckily the moon came out just then so I was able to see what I was doing and made my way to where my horse was tethered with the others to the garden fence. There was no sign of my saddle but I thought I might as well investigate the potting shed on the offchance and there it was.

A few minutes later I was in the clearing wondering which way to go as I had no idea where the cottage was in relation to Clun - or anywhere else for that matter. I finally concluded that any direction would do until I was some distance from Esther so I took the nearest trail and departed at a snail's pace due to it being pitch black beneath the trees.

I still didn't know where I was when day dawned, but at least I could get lost a lot faster now and I proceeded to do just that until I came to the edge of the forest. Not that it helped much even though I could see the sun as there was nothing to tell me whether I was east of Clun and had to turn west or vice versa. The only solution was to find someone and ask, but typically there was no one about and no sign of any habitation either.

I was sitting there wondering what my Auntie Cleopatra would advise in such a situation when I heard the sound of a considerable number of horsemen coming up behind me and, on turning round, I saw a party of knights wearing closed helms and white mantles emblazoned with a crimson cross. Their presence suggested two things -I had strayed over the border into Shropshire as you don't find many Knights Templar in Clun - and I'd be in trouble if they learned the contents of the bag which was still tied to my swordbelt.

I was tempted to leap off my horse and disappear into the forest but there were a number of flaws in this plan - I'd draw attention to the fact that I had something to hide, they were between me and the trees and Lord Owen wouldn't like it if I abandoned his property. The sensible alternative was to adopt an air of innocence and ask them for directions - after all, there was no law against me being there and it would explain why an exotically dressed stranger was wandering around before they had time to be suspicious. I therefore trotted up to them and said:

"I'm sorry to bother you, but could you please tell me where Clun is?"

"Why?" demanded the knight at the head of the procession, his voice echoing inside his helmet.

"Because I'm lost." I told him, a little taken aback by the evident hostility in his tone, but then, Templars aren't noted for their general friendliness. "I'm one of Lord Owen's retainers but I haven't been with him long so don't know this part of the country very well."

I didn't catch his reply at first because he had an abominable accent with a lisp so I had to ask him to repeat it. Then I wished I'd headed for the forest instead as it turned out that he was accusing me of being 'one of thothe thons of Thatan from acroth the Thropthire border.'

As there was no way I could make a run for it now, I tried looking puzzled and enquired why he thought Marcher Lords were any more diabolical than other landholders and received the following explanation:  
He was Don Alphontho de Than Thebathtian and he'd once had the misfortune to be held hostage by Lord Owen tho knew what devilith practitheth went on at Clun.

That accounted for the lisp as Don Alphonso came from Castille where the nobility have this curious affectation in their speech - not that I'd ever met him before as he'd been Lord Owen's guest as it were, some years before I'd arrived, but the others still remembered him for the way he'd murdered the English language. I hadn't heard anything about his being a Templar though, so it was logical to assume that he'd joined the order after being released.

Needless to say, I was arrested and conducted to a priory near Ludlow where I gathered they were staying for a few days before carrying on to wherever it was they were going. After being searched for damming evidence - which was certainly found - and being relieved of my bag and dagger, I was shut in a vacant cell to await what they referred to as a fair trial - although I already had a good idea what the verdict would be. The only bright spot was that they fed me and while bread, water and unsalted vegetables was hardly a menu to stimulate a condemned man's appetite I made myself eat because I'd had nothing but a mug of ale since dinner the previous day - as my Auntie Cleopatra always says: 'Never face adversity on an empty stomach if you can help it as it's at times like those that you need all your strength.'

Later that afternoon I was tried for sorcery with Don Alphonso acting as prosecutor. Without the helmet he was easier to understand but far less pleasant to look at as he was a stern, hatchet-faced man who might have been carved from ice for all the human warmth he radiated. He stared at me for a moment in the manner of someone who had just found something nasty on his trencher and then began the interrogation:

HIM: Thtate your name, age and occupathion.

ME: (After a brief explanation about my family) Grendel ap Agammemnon. I've just turned twenty one (not that I expected him to show consideration for my tender years) and I'm Captain to Lord Owen of Clun.

HIM: (As if prompting me) And hith thortherer.

ME: No, that's Gulnar. You must remember him? He's a repulsive bald creature with manic eyes and a leering smile.

HIM: (Crossing himself at the memory) Then you are Gulnar'th famuluth.

ME: His what?

HIM: Hith apprentith.

ME: No, I'm just a warrior.

HIM: (Indicating a collection of bats' wings, frogs' toes etc. spread out on the table) Then why were you carrying thethe ingredienth for thpelth?

ME: I was delivering them for Gulnar on my way to Clunton. And I got lost.

HIM: (Idly reading the price tag attached to a bats' wing) Hmmm. A halfpenny. Quite exthpenthive.

ME: (Without thinking) That's odd. De Belleme's only charged me a farthing.

HIM: (Triumphantly) Hah! You confeth to purchathing them. Why would you do that if you are only a warrior?

ME: Gulnar asked me to get them for him as I was already going into town to do some shopping.

HIM: Athithting a thortherer ith to be an acthethory to Thatanic practitheth. But I thay you actively commit herethy ath I have proof that your mother wath a witch who dedicated you to the thervice of Thatan at birth.

ME: (Surprised as this was the first I'd heard of it) You have?

HIM: Yeth. Why elthe would the name you Grendel after a demon?

ME: But Grendel's just some kind of monster. He turns up in that story about Beowulf.

HIM: It ith the thame thing. Monthterth are not numbered in the legionth of Heaven tho they are the denizenth of Hell.

ME: Oh. I always thought Grendel lived in a fen with his mother. Or was it a cave?

HIM: It ith immaterial.

ME: Not if he lived in a fen. You probably don't get any of those in Hell as the water would put the fires out.

HIM: Thilenth! Nothing you say will affect the evidenth.

ME: (Bitterly) So I've noticed. Is that it, then?

HIM: No. You are altho an abominathion in the thight of the Lord.

ME: (Indignantly) Well I can't help looking scruffy after all I've been through since yesterday.

HIM: (With an expression of profound distaste) I refer to the fact that you are wearing ribbonth in your hair.

ME: But I only braid the thides - I mean the sides - to stop hair getting in my eyes.

HIM: If you really found long hair a nuithanthe you would have it cut thort. I therefore prounounth you guilty ath charged and thententh you to be ecthecuted at the thtake.

ME: (Feeling both angry and alarmed) But I'm innocent I tell you! I demand a proper trial.

HIM: Thith ith a proper trial. However, you may have a further chanth to prove your innothenth.

ME: (Hopefully) How?

HIM: Trial by combat. If there ith a knight willing to ethpouth your cauth he can fight a champion of the Knightth Templar and your innothenth will be proved if your champion ith victoriouth.

ME: Why can't I be my own champion? I keep telling you I'm a warrior.

HIM: Our champion will not demean himthelf by jouthting with one who ith not a true knight.

ME: But I am a knight in its original meaning of a mounted retainer.

HIM: You are thimply trying to confuthe the ithue with themanticth. Do you with to take advantage of thith opportunity or not?

ME: (miserably) I might as well. It seems to be the only one I've got.

HIM: Then we thall proclaim that the trial ith to take place on Thurthday morning and if your champion failth to appear by ten o'clock or lotheth the combat you will be ecthecuted in the aforementhioned manner.

ME: (curiously) Who is your champion by the way?

HIM: (staring at me coldly) Mythelf.

I was escorted to my cell, feeling less than hopeful about my future as it was already Tuesday so there was little time left for word about the trial by combat to get round. This meant I was left relying on the goodwill of the locals and the numbers of prospective champions from their ranks that I could think of came to the grand total of nil. There was nobody at Clun for a start as Lord Owen refused to have any true knights in his household due to his highly eccentric lifestyle. His family were Bretons and therefore descended from Ancient Britons who'd emigrated when the Saxons arrived and Lord Owen had gone back to what he imagined were the old pre-Saxon ways as far as it was possible to do so in the modern world. He wouldn't acknowledge his real name - Roger Fitzodo - because it was Norman, all his retainers - save for a few lowly men-at-arms - were from Wales or the descendants of Welsh families who'd stayed put when the Germanic invaders came and anyone who wanted to keep in with him had to dress up in costume and pretend to be as batty as he was.

Of course there were a few Norman knights in his territory who were holding lands in fief to him but his attitude was that they didn't exist other than on rent paying days so I knew he wouldn't even think of asking one of them to come to my aid. It was also unlikely that any of the Norman Marcher Lords would send help either - most of those who knew him personally thought that he lowered the tone of the neighbourhood while the rest would be only too pleased to see my ashes because their champions kept losing in the blood games. As far as I could see, then, I had less than forty-eight hours left on earth and none of them promised to be worth looking back on as Don Alphonso set fire to my funeral pyre.

They weren't. The cell was cold and cheerless and made me long for my favourite corner of Clun's hall even if the rushes were long overdue for a change while the bread, water and vegetable diet could only be palatable if one was really hungry, which I wasn't in my state of mind. There was also the question of Gulnar's farewell remark to consider - he'd obviously foreseen something otherwise he'd never have mentioned Thursday and I couldn't help wondering why he hadn't warned me that trouble was looming on my horizon. The only consolation, if it could be called that, was his saying he might see me again because it suggested that my fate was only ninety nine percent certain.

On the Thursday morning I was made to change into a garment resembling a long, white night-shirt and unbraid my hair just in case my ribbons were a charm against fire - well,that was Don Alphonso's reason for confiscating them but I suspected he simply had an unreasonable prejudice against foreign fashions. I was then led. barefooted, outside to where I was met with a resounding cheer by what looked like the entire population of Ludlow but judging by the people's expressions, the welcome had more to do with my being the star attraction than their giving me moral support. They'd certainly come prepared to enjoy themselves as there were stalls selling everything from refreshments to souvenirs of the occasion while those who grew bored with waiting for the main event could always pass the time by watching jugglers, mummers, tumblers and dancing bears. Even the Knights of St. John had turned out to staff a first aid pavilion for anyone who might be overcome by excitement or the smoke from my execution and in the meantime they were taking advantage of the prevailing holiday spirit by going round the crowd with their collection boxes.

There was a chair waiting for me next to the stake which was piled round with faggots in readiness and I sat down with the distinct feeling that my face matched my night-shirt. It wasn't that I was particularly afraid of dying as such, otherwise I'd have chosen a less hazardous career, but waiting to be roasted alive isn't the same as waiting to go into battle when you can be inspired by the thought of making a heroic exit if your luck's run out. It was also very humiliating not being allowed to do my own fighting, but even so, I thought I could live with the shame if somebody happened to turn up and defeat Don Alphonso on my behalf.

I waited and waited but there was no sign that any champion for the accused was on his way so I tried to keep my mind off my actual departure from this life by contemplating what might be in store for me in the hereafter. I didn't think I could be judged as the blackest of sinners - after all the worst thing I'd done was kill a few people, but that was unavoidable in my profession and I didn't see why I should be condemned for it when I was surrounded by monks in armour. As for my tendency to chase rather than be chaste where girls were concerned, well, I was hardly in the same league as Solomon who had all those concubines, so if he could get away with it there was no reason why I couldn't. Of course, it had been years since I'd last attended mass too but there was no opportunity to do so at Clun and before that I'd sometimes intended going even if I'd never got there and they do say it's the thought that counts. Finally, I did have a habit of bending the truth a little, but that wasn't the same as actually lying outright, so taking everything into account, I wasn't really a bad person and I felt fairly confident that they'd let me into Heaven even if only by the back gate. Not that I had much idea of what goes on up there as every account I'd heard had been rather vague, but I gathered there was a lot of singing and harp playing so perhaps it was something like an everlasting Eisteddfod - a bit tame, perhaps, but as I'm Welsh I've always enjoyed listening to music. (I didn't think they'd actually let me join in, though, as I've been told I've got a very nice voice but it would sound even better if I could keep in tune.)

My pious mood was abruptly shattered by a herald announcing it was nearly ten and my mind suddenly became focused on this world now that I was about to leave it. I began to notice little things that you normally take for granted such as how blue the sky was and how empty it looked without any clouds to suggest we were in for a torrential downpour which could be interpreted as the Almighty intervening to prove my innocence. It was then that I decided I wasn't going to meet my fate without some kind of a fight, although as I was weaponless I was limited to attacking the Templars' servants if I was to do any damage - a course of action which wasn't as unfair as it sounds when there were three of them looking as if they were about to enjoy tying me to the stake. Needless to say, I'd taken a thorough dislike to them and besides, if I was lucky I might aggravate someone into spoiling everyone else's morning by getting carried away and killing me in anger.

The herald seemed just about ready to announce that my time was up when there was another resounding cheer and the crowd parted to let a horseman through - a knight obviously ready for battle because he was fully armed and mounted on a destrier. Whoever he was, he was keeping it to himself as there was no device on his shield and he wore a helmet with a faceguard.

I realised he was my champion when he gestured towards me and Don Alphonso got up from his seat and held a conversation with him. I couldn't really hear all of it as they were too far away but I gathered that the new arrival was under some kind of vow not to reveal his identity and don Alphonso was trying to decide whether or not he was a 'true' knight by the way he conducted himself during the exchange. It was very nerve racking waiting for the Templar to make his mind up but in the end he accepted that his would be opponent was worthy to cross lances with him and called for his own destrier and helmet.

I eyed the makeshift lists with some trepidation as I was now about to watch a combat with far more at stake on the outcome (such as me being burnt at it) than the few pennies I sometimes bet on the blood game. What if my champion lost? It was an awful thought and I looked back at Don Alphonso and wondered how good he was at this particular exercise. It was impossible to see his expression beneath his helm, but he still managed to give the impression he was extremely confident as a groom led his destrier to the end of the lists where he was waiting. It was a mean spirited animal as most destriers are and it was unfortunate for its owner that he happened to be gesturing to the herald at that precise moment - the horse took one look at the gauntleted hand waving around in front of its nose, clamped his teeth on it and began shaking his head like a lurcher worrying a rat. Judging by Don Alphonso's yells it must have been a painful experience but I couldn't find much sympathy for him even when the horse suddenly released him and he went flying with the momentum to land in a clanking heap on the ground.

The Knights of St. John gleefully rushed forward to attend to the injured Templar but as there was no love lost between their orders their ministrations were deliberately far from gentle. From what I could see they were having difficulty getting the gauntlet off, no doubt because the chain mail was squashed into Don Alphonso's hand, but it didn't take them long to think of a drastic solution to the problem. Two of them ran back to the first aid pavilion and emerged carrying an axe and a pot of molten tar with the obvious intention of performing an amputation. Don Alphonso didn't seem exactly keen on this idea as he called to his fellow Templars for help with the inevitable result that the two factions engaged each other in combat - and as the pot of tar was dropped on the ground and everyone trampled through the spilled contents you could say it was literally what is known as a pitched battle.

The crowd went wild with excitement - one half started chanting for the Hospitalers while the other cheered the Templars and within minutes the rival supporters were hurling pies and apples at one another as a preliminary to a pitched battle of their own. It seemed the ideal time to get up and sneak quietly away and that's what I was in the process of doing when a Templar came tottering over to me on the arm of a servant. I knew who the knight was by the squashed gauntlet and felt a moment's dismay in case he was going to accuse me of preventing the joust through Sorcery, but my fears were groundless as Don Alphonso was of the opinion that it was the Lord's doing, not mine. With my innothenthe proved I wath free to take all my pothethions except for the thpell ingredientth and go, so I returned to the priory with the servant who was to confirm my release with the monks.

I'd barely entered the priory grounds when I was joined by my champion who'd had to fight his way through the melee in order to get to me. I was very grateful to him for volunteering to take my part but he more or less brushed my polite thank you aside and told me to hurry up because he had to be away from Ludlow before noon. As I still hadn't a clue who he was I couldn't see why he should feel bound to wait for me if he was in that much of a hurry but I didn't want to hang around Ludlow any more than I had to either so I obliged him by being as quick as I could.

Our departure was delayed at the gateway by a procession of wounded Templars, Hospitalers and citizens coming in for treatment and then we had further bother with the riot itself which effectively barred our way on all sides. There was no problem for the knight who was fully armoured and riding a destrier, but I had nothing but a dagger and a horse little bigger than a pony which was more suited to hit and run tactics than barging through a full scale battle. It was very frustrating having to sit around and do nothing again but as my champion pointed out, it would be a bit silly if I escaped execution only to get myself killed half an hour later for no particularly good reason - not that agreeing with his common sense made me feel any better as I was itching to thump some of those kind people who thought human bonfires were a good excuse for a party.  
I tried to take my mind off joining in by puzzling over my champion's identity. His voice sounded vaguely familiar but I couldn't quite place it so in the end I decided he had to be one of Lord Owen's tenants whom I'd met on the rare occasions they'd come to the castle dressed in the approved manner. It still didn't explain why he was so anxious to leave, though, as Lord Owen didn't care what they got up to in their spare time so long as they didn't bother him. The mystery was nearly as frustrating as missing the fight as I do hate not knowing what's going on, but I didn't get a chance to start asking questions - the moment the crowd thinned enough in one place for us to get through we were on our way.

People dived aside as they saw the knight bearing down on them, but it didn't take them long to recover as they closed in on me even as I followed in the destrier's wake. Luckily they were still a bit confused otherwise I might have been in trouble, but as it was they succeeded in doing nothing more than putting their noses within easy reach of my fist and I cheerfully provided a few more casualties for the priory before leaving them behind. A sudden yell of "The sorcerer's escaping'." told me I'd been wise not to hang around enjoying myself because the rioters obviously hadn't taken note of my release but as none of them were mounted and able to come after me I couldn't resist stopping for long enough to make a very rude parting gesture. Judging by their reactions it was going to be some time before I could return to Ludlow, if ever, but as I never wanted to see the town again anyway I was hardly dismayed by the thought as I hurried to catch up with my companion.

We had to slow down once our safety was fully assured because the destrier was too big and heavy to keep up a breakneck speed for long, but we still continued at a canter as my champion insisted on reaching the forest before the deadline. He sounded really agitated now as the sun was nearly at its zenith and as soon as the trees came into sight he urged his horse into a gallop again. I was just about to follow suit when I saw one of his spurs fall off into the grass so I pulled up and dismounted instead in order to retrieve it for him.

I was surprised to find it was made of some kind of crystal as this was hardly a common material for such an object, but at least it meant that I could now trace my champion's identity for few knights in the area would own so unusual an item. Little did I know that my curiosity was about to be satisfied far sooner than I expected.

I was confronted by a most amazing sight as I trotted into the forest (after remounting of course) and was so taken aback that I failed to notice I had more company than I'd bargained for - but then my carelessness can be excused on the grounds that you don't often come across a horseman draped in a fine meshed fishing net and wearing a bucket on his head. I was even more dumbfounded when he removed the pail and revealed himself to be a she - and one who I knew only too well. Esther.

I must have sat there with my mouth open for a good few seconds before managing to groan "Oh, no" at allowing myself to be surrounded by her henchmen.

"Is that all you can say after I saved your life?" she snapped, looking none too pleased at my lack of enthusiasm over our reunion.

"You?" I said, feeling totally confused. "You mean you found me a champion?"

"No, stupid," she retorted rudely. "That was me. Old Mother Gethen turned me into a knight so I could fight at your trial but the spell only worked until noon."

Light started to dawn. "Are you telling me that the bucket was a helmet and the net chain mail?"

She nodded. "Yes. And this old nag of mine became a destrier."

"What about the lance and the shield?" I enquired.

"Oh they were just a stick and a piece of wood so I threw them away. But I've got to take the bucket and fishing net back as she only lent them to me."

I still wasn't entirely convinced but final proof came when I noticed that the spur I was holding had turned into a sliver of glass with a length of string tied round it and as it matched an identical oddity which Esther was removing from her left heel I had to conclude that she was telling the truth. Now that I knew I could recognise her voice in retrospect, but it wasn't really surprising I hadn't at the time. It was very deep for a girl's due to her enormous size and as it needs years of training to ride Norman style while carrying a shield and lance I'd naturally assumed that I was talking to a young 'true' knight, not a magically produced facsimile.

Needless to say, I had to admire her for taking such an appalling risk because if she'd been caught she'd have joined me at the stake there and then, but while I respected her for her courage I still didn't fancy her any more than I had before. I therefore decided to turn this situation to my advantage by feigning a change of heart in the hope that it would put her off her guard - if I could make her believe that I was now happy to go to London with her after what she'd done, I might be able to escape again, only I intended to head for Old Mother Gethen's rather than the obvious destination of Clun Castle. Admittedly it wasn't the most gallant of plans but the way I saw it, I wouldn't have needed rescuing in the first place if it hadn't been for my unwanted paramour so I was under no obligation to carry my gratitude to extremes.

It wasn't easy pretending I was beginning to return her affection as it nearly choked me using my best chat-lines on a girl who looked the way she did, but as I'd had plenty of practice at turning on the charm I managed tolerably well. It might have sounded false to me but Esther believed it and went horribly coy and giggly as we rode to Clunton with her thugs in tow. Of course, my strategy would only add to my troubles if the escape bid failed as she was more enamoured of me than ever. But I refused to think about that as it was a fate too awful to contemplate - not as bad as being burnt at the stake, mind you, but near enough.

We finally reached Mother Gethen's hut to find its occupant standing outside waiting for us. I can't say I was immediately keen on her appearance because she looked like a typical witch but as we halted before her I noticed that her eyes were very kind and realised she was unlikely to go in for the black variety of magic. This suggested Gulnar could hardly be a friend of hers so I couldn't help wondering why he was sending her bits and pieces.

Mother Gethen took the net and bucket from Esther then told me to come inside the hut as she wanted to speak to me about my losing a present she'd been expecting. I could see no reason why she needed privacy to do so but as I wanted to talk to her anyway I did as requested without argument - after all, if I could sort something out now it would save me the bother of trying to get back to her later on. I was still very nervous, though ,in case she was cross with me over the non-delivery, but I needn't have worried as she gave me a reassuring smile as she shut the door behind us.

"Something tells me you could do with a little magic on your own behalf," she said and looked up at me for confirmation.

I hurriedly explained about Esther and asked if she had any put-off spells otherwise I'd never be able to leave Clun Castle again without an armed escort. She nodded and said it would be easy to deal with my problem as Esther was only infatuated with what she imagined me to be and not genuinely in love. Then she asked if there was anything else and I was about to say no when a steely glint in her eyes made me think again. I couldn't just leave Esther to run away as from what I'd heard of London it wasn't the sort of place where a dim fifteen year old girl should be let loose alone - not that I could imagine any man wanting to take advantage of her, but being safe in that respect didn't mean she'd by safe where other possible disasters were concerned. I therefore changed my answer to yes and said I ought to take that stupid lump outside home and would this be possible to arrange after her criminal activities?

Again this was easy to deal with even though she'd heard Lord Owen had found the note and guessed what had happened by questioning Esther's father. He was all in favour of doling out justice according to Welsh law rather than Norman so all she had to do was to ensure that he took this course of action. It meant that my kidnapper would have to pay a fine of twenty shillings and while it was somewhat humiliating for me to be valued at the same rate as a horse or ox it was far less hard on Esther than hanging.

I was charged a shilling for the put-off spell but told I could have the guarantee for Esther's safety free as I wasn't thinking of myself here. It made me feel quite virtuous but I tried not to look pleased about it in case Mother Gethen thought I was big-headed - which I'm not, whatever other people might say. I got the impression she'd still misjudged me, though, because she gave me a curious little half-smile, but all she said was that Gulnar had never even met her so I ought to be wary of delivering things for him in future.

This was the end of the conversation so I went outside again to join Esther who was getting very impatient at my prolonged absence. This was the first time since we'd met that I was able to be genuinely cheerful in her presence but then, I knew it wouldn't be long before Mother Gethen's magic began to work. My faith in the old woman's abilities soon proved to be well grounded for half a mile up the road my 'betrothed' started looking doubtful and a few minutes later she announced that our relationship wasn't going to work out.

"Why?" I enquired, as I was curious about how the spell was putting her off.

"Well you're a bit of a wally, aren't you?" she told me disparagingly. "First you get yourself kidnapped and then you were caught by the Templars. I mean, how can you look after me if you're the type who needs rescuing all the time?"

I remembered Mother Gethen's curious smile and suspected she'd put that excuse into Esther's head so I didn't take it too much to heart.

"All right then." I said, pretending to be more hurt than I really was. "If that's the way you feel we might as well go back to Clun right now."

"But how can I?" she wailed. "You told me I wouldn't be able to after what I've done."

"Oh I'm sure I can work something out with Lord Owen." I said airily. "I'll tell him to judge you by Welsh law seeing as I'm Welsh myself. You'll only have to pay a fine then."

"Do you think he'll listen to you?" she asked dubiously.

I glared at her. "Of course he will. I'm his Captain, remember, so he always asks my advice on things."

This wasn't entirely true, but I had to say something to make her trust me as I didn't fancy dragging her back to Clun. I must have sounded very convincing because she gave in and told her thugs they could go as she no longer required their services. I half expected trouble from that quarter but they went meekly enough so either she'd paid them well in advance or their co-operation was part of the magic. She then unstrapped her saddle bag and handed me my sword, helmet and other dagger and once I was finally armed again we turned back the way we'd just come.

We rode through Clun Town with Esther wanting to go straight home and me arguing that she had to face Lord Owen some time so she might as well get it over with. As I pointed out it would look better if she gave herself up rather than made us arrest her, but naturally I didn't add that it would also save us a lot of bother into the bargain. She was very nervous now, not that I could blame her really, and the nearer we got to the castle the worse she became so it didn't help when I had to hammer on the gatehouse door for the usual interminable time before we were let in. That's the trouble with having a gatekeeper who's going deaf. But as Cuthbert was a very old and loyal family retainer Lord Owen didn't like to get rid of him even though he was a Saxon - or used to be, rather, because he died a few years back.

The bailey was a little more lively than usual as Griffith and some of the others were out holding an ale spitting contest but they stopped what they were doing when they saw us and hurried over.

"Is Lord Owen around?" I asked my second-in-command.

Griffith took a mouthful of ale and half drowned a passing chicken before saying Lord Owen was sleeping off dinner and wasn't to be disturbed. Then he pointed a thumb at my companion and added "Is that her?" When I confirmed that it was, indeed, Esther, he told her to dismount and the next thing I knew he'd had her dragged off to the dungeons - which seemed a bit high handed to me seeing as I was now in charge again.

"His Lordship's orders," he said before continuing where he'd left off with his favourite hobby, much to the annoyance of a serving woman who happened to be within range.

I didn't argue with him even though Esther had obviously been terrified as I thought a severe fright would do her good. Apart from that I had other matters to attend to because I'd been thinking over what Mother Gethen had said about delivering things for Gulnar and I can add up better than most people so long as I don't run out of fingers.

I took the horses to the stables then went down to Gulnar's squalid little domain with the intention of grabbing his ears and shaking the truth out of him. I was certainly angry enough to risk assaulting him in spite of his powers but he must have known I was coming because he was staring into my eyes the moment I reached his corner of the basement and I found it impossible to go any further. I could still talk though, so I demanded to know why he'd given me the bag of spell ingredients.

He grinned evilly and explained that he'd had a vision of my trial where the items were displayed on the table so he'd had no choice but to provide them otherwise the future wouldn't have come to pass as it should. It was all very regrettable but he did have his reputation as a clairvoyant to think of and as it was Thursday and he had, indeed, seen me again there was no harm done.

He'd continued staring at me all the time he was talking and when he'd finished I realised that he'd acted perfectly reasonably and couldn't have done anything else under the circumstances. I, therefore, apologised for losing my temper and turned to go upon which he added that he'd recently had a second vision of me sporting a black eye.

This too came to pass when Lord Owen finally recovered from his after dinner stupor and came to the hall so that he could welcome me back in a characteristically violent manner. He called me an incompetent fool amongst other things and then gave me a backhander which was his usual way of dealing with retainers who'd annoyed him. I sat down rather heavily on an old mutton bone which was hidden in the rushes so ended up having to eat my meals standing for the next few days and as Gulnar hadn't foreseen this as well as the black eye I had the dubious satisfaction of knowing that he wasn't as good a prophet as he made himself out to be.

It all worked out all right in the end, I suppose, as I finally got my loan along with the sum Abraham owed me and Esther's fine minus the third which Lord Owen took for himself as the law's representative. This meant that I was able to have my new things with money to spare after paying Mother Gethen but I can't say I was exactly overjoyed at my financial good fortune - considering what I'd been through it didn't seem fair that I should be rewarded with only twelve and fourpence for my pains.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been so disappointing if my saddle hadn't turned out to be badly made and ready to fall apart at a typically inconvenient moment. But I won't go into that now because it's part of another story.

THE END


End file.
